


What Do You See?

by lemoncellbros



Series: Macaw's Works [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caretaker John, Johnlock - Freeform, Loving John, Loving Sherlock, M/M, Sad Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncellbros/pseuds/lemoncellbros
Summary: John is always there to help Sherlock through whatever challenges he experiences. One Sunday night, Sherlock wants to know what John sees when he looks at things through a normal man's mind.





	What Do You See?

Life at the side of Sherlock Holmes was sure to be exciting at times, but John Watson had soon discovered that the majority of Sherlock’s time was spent in his mind palace. Brilliance was a steadfast side effect of whatever Sherlock did in his head, but gifts like knowledge never come for free.

John had come to expect some sort of meltdown from Sherlock at least once a week. Sometimes they came in blank stares and pained silences for hours on end, other times they came in shouting and smashing things, always something.

On this particular Sunday, Sherlock’s meltdown came in the way of John finding his sobbing figure on their living room floor at 3 am. Loud, wracking, sobs could be heard from between his knees, where he’d tucked his head and wrapped his arms around himself. 

Wordlessly, John sat down next to Sherlock, mimicking him in pulling his knees to his chin and wrapping his arms around them. For a few minutes, they sat together in 221B Baker Street, the only sound to be heard being Sherlock’s sobs. 

Once his sobs subsided and Sherlock could look at John, it was all he could do not to break down again at his loyal companion, his kind eyes regarding Sherlock warily. John put a hand over Sherlock’s, finally speaking.

“What’s wrong, Sherl?” His voice was devoid of judgement, just worry.

“What’s it like in your head, John? What do you see?” Sherlock inquired, his voice no more than a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

Sherlock grabbed John’s face gently, one hand on each cheek. John was used to this, as Sherlock thought this helped John think. Sherlock nudged his head to look around the room, then back to him.

“What do you see, when you look around this room? At me?”

John’s face softened at the sight before him. His Sherlock, the Great Detective, broken on their living room floor, seeking comfort from the only man he knew he could. John put one hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, and used the other to point out things in the room.

“I see our living room, where we help people. I see our chairs, where we sit together and think. I see our mantle, where you like to shove knives when you’re frustrated, and where the skull lives.”

John points to the desk, “I see the desk, where I write about us, about your brilliance. Where you look over my shoulder during cases, where we shove random gifts from the people we’ve saved.”

A point to the couch they’re leaning on, “I see the couch we cuddle on, where we first kissed. I see the smiley face you painted and the gunshots you fired. I see some good memories.”

And then John turns to Sherlock, putting both hands on his face.

“And I see you. I see the man who saved hundreds, who saved me. I see the most brilliant man that ever lived, the most loving man I’ve ever known. I see the man whose given so much of himself to the world he’s barely saved any for himself. I see the only thing in this room that matters, the man I love.”

Sherlock seemed to melt as this, his shoulders shedding the tenseness they’d held not one moment ago, and his expression transforming into one of loving admiration. He leaned down to John’s level and planted a soft kiss on his lips, an exploration of love and thanks. 

John pulled away from the kiss with a small smile, content that Sherlock was alright. He stood and helped Sherlock up.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah? You’ve got cases to solve, people to save.”

Sherlock let himself be dragged to bed, a small smile tugging at his lips as John snuggled up to him. He slept soundly that night, knowing that if anything in this world, John loved him.


End file.
